


5. Sam and Ryan meet up again and things go pear-shaped

by alley_oops, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Sam Worthington and Ryan Kwanten [5]
Category: Actor RPF, Australian Actor RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), True Blood RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-03
Updated: 2008-11-03
Packaged: 2018-01-01 17:19:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1046471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alley_oops/pseuds/alley_oops, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica





	5. Sam and Ryan meet up again and things go pear-shaped

_**Sam and Ryan Kwanten ([](http://www.journalfen.net/users/kwanten/profile)**_[ **kwanten**](http://www.journalfen.net/users/kwanten/)) meet up again and things go pear-shaped  
 **players only. takes place a few nights after[Sam shows Ryan his teeth.](http://www.journalfen.net/users/kwanten/1409.html)**

Ryan wakes abruptly, his hand on his cock. Shreds of his dream flow by so fast he can't even remember them, but for one overwhelming detail: _Sam_. "Fuck," Ryan spits out, his erection burning against his palm. He strokes fast, using his other hand to twist and pinch at the head, remembering how Sam bit him there the other day.

It's the memory that does it, more than his hands. He digs his heels into the mattress and arches his back, spurting hot over his fingers and digging his teeth into his bottom lip to keep quiet. But when he's finished, he still feels unsatisfied, staring up at the headlights crossing his bedroom ceiling. Checking the clock on his bedside table, he sees it's barely one a.m. Maybe Sam will still be up.

He dives for his phone.

Three-quarters of the way through the book he's reading, Sam glances at the clock and then sighs as he picks up his phone, the put-upon look turning to a smile when he sees it's Ryan. "Hey. How's it going?"

"Good," Ryan answers, relieved that Sam doesn't sound irritated by his timing. "You still up?"

Sam shifts, shoving the pillows up more firmly behind his back. "Yeah. Reading. You?"

"Just woke up. Probably done sleeping for a while." Ryan rolls out of bed and pads barefoot to the sink to wash off his right hand. "Dreamed about you." _Fuck_. He'll never understand why he fucking _says_ things like that.

"Yeah?" That gets Sam grinning. "Good I hope?"

Ryan laughs. "Yeah, really good." He waits a beat. "Want to make a dream come true?"

"That depends on the dream," Sam says, stretching a little, his cock already stiffening in anticipation.

Smiling slightly, Ryan focuses on the timbre of Sam's voice, deep and sexy. Sounding almost like home, but still faintly exotic. "I'm pretty sure you enjoyed it too."

"I'll bet." Sam glances at the clock again. "You want to come over and tell me more about it?"

 _Yes_. "Every detail," Ryan promises, turning the shower taps on hot. "Be there in twenty."

"See you then."

When Ryan arrives his hair is still wet, a midnight chill creeping in through his beat-up leather jacket. He drops off his car at valet and passes the Citadel bar without a glance, eager to get upstairs to Sam. Three times, now; what does that make Sam to him? A friend, a lover? Does the question itself simply make Ryan obsessive and overanalytical?

Waking up and running to the man in the middle of the night probably answers that one anyway, he figures ruefully, and knocks on Sam's door.

Sam sets his book down and climbs out of bed, padding barefoot to the door to answer it. "Hey." He greets Ryan with a soft warm kiss on the mouth, motioning for him to come on in, the door shut behind him. "Can I get you a drink or anything?"

"Not interested," Ryan tells him with a grin, dragging Sam back in for another, longer kiss. It's a totally different vibe, this, the lit-up night city skyline, Sam in nothing but black pajama bottoms. It feels less rushed, somehow, though it doesn't inhibit Ryan's need.

Sam grins. "It's gonna be like that, is it?" Getting his hands on Ryan's hips and pressing close for still another kiss, the cold leather of his jacket making him shiver.

"Always," Ryan murmurs, laughing a little. He peels out of his jacket and lets it drop to the floor, revealing his usual uniform of jeans and t-shirt. "You're warm," he whispers, rubbing his hands over Sam's ass. "Feels good."

"And you're dressed," Sam says. "Which you shouldn't be." Already tugging Ryan's t-shirt over his head. "Come get in bed with me, then we can both be warm."

Happy to obey, Ryan tosses his shirt aside then crouches down to unlace his hiking boots, the first pair of shoes he'd stumbled over when he'd been hightailing it out of his apartment. Crossing the room, he slides his belt out and drops his jeans with a wicked light in his eyes, then all but tackles Sam back onto the bed.

"I thought you were gonna tell me about your dream," Sam protests mildly, eyes sparkling, obviously enjoying himself. "In detail. Or are you opting for showing rather than telling?"

Laughing, Ryan rolls to his back and pulls Sam to straddle him. "In my dream, I was already prepped," he whispers, licking at Sam's ear. A little detail he made sure to take care of at home this time, just in case. "You slid right in..."

Sam groans at the thought. Grins. "Skin against skin, or were we still being careful?" he murmurs, teasing, mostly, as he shifts, rubbing their cocks together, only the fabric of his pajamas between them.

Ryan bites back a moan and grinds up against Sam, heavy above him. "In my dreams, I'm never careful," he says, and nips at Sam's bottom lip. "You could fuck me 'til I'm raw and bleeding for you." The thought's enough to set him off again, if he lets it.

"We should talk about making that happen," Sam says, nipping back and grinding a little harder, one hand shoving his pants down, far enough on each leg that he can kick out of them. "If you're really interested - outside your dreams."

A smile. A shudder. "Yeah, I'm interested. Jesus." Ryan laughs and wraps his arms around Sam, stroking slowly over the planes of his back.

"This time we'll use the condom. Talk about it when I'm not between your thighs," Sam whispers, kissing Ryan again, a small smile curving his lips as he reaches for a packet on the bedside table.

"Be amazed I can talk about anything when you're between my thighs," Ryan mutters, spreading his legs. His mind is reeling at the implications, though; does Sam really mean...? "Are you filming right now?" he asks, changing the subject for his own sanity. "Can I bite you?"

"No, I'm not." Sam grins. He leans back, tearing the packet open, rolling it on with one hand, eager to be inside Ryan. "And you're welcome to bite me." One hand lining himself up, head nudging Ryan's hole, the slickness there already making itself apparent as he starts to push in, smoothly, like hand into glove.

Shutting his eyes, Ryan drops his head back and focuses on sensation, smooth slide even as his breathing starts to hitch. "Sir," he whispers, licking his lips and bearing down hard to take Sam deeper.

"Yeah. God. You feel so good," Sam murmurs, groaning softly, cock all the way in, snug and tight inside Ryan's body, the heat incredible even through the latex. "Just imagine how this would feel without," he whispers, not even sure why he's considering this, with Ryan, when he's not done that in years.

Ryan snorts a soft laugh. "Almost can't imagine it, it's been so long," he admits. Nearly five fucking years. He slides one hand up to cup Sam's nape and tugs him down, licking at the tender flesh just beneath his jaw, light stubble rough against his tongue. His hips moving with Sam's, he sucks gently, then harder, drawing blood to the surface in a lazy bruise. Then sinking his teeth in.

Sam's cock pulses, throbs with the bite, his breath hitching. Christ. "Yeah, that's it," he whispers, fucking Ryan slowly but deeply, the rhythm perfect for this late night rendezvous. "Go ahead and mark me."

The invitation makes Ryan's blood rush wildly and he groans, clenching around Sam's cock. He grazes his lips over Sam's then licks down to his throat, edging it with teeth before marking him again, lust sparking through him. A little harder this time, until he has to pull back just to breathe.

"Go ahead. Harder," Sam encourages, thrusting in again and again. "You don't have to hold back with me."

Ryan moans, fire tingling up his spine. But this time he takes Sam at his word. Gripping Sam's cock tight, he drags his head back and bites down hard on his throat, just short of breaking the skin. Flavor and heat rushing up to overwhelm him, his cock pulsing hard between them.

The bite pushes Sam closer to the edge and he closes his eyes, fighting to keep control, the throb of his cock signalling it's already a losing battle. He shifts, kissing Ryan, tongue diving into his mouth, wondering what it would be like to taste his own blood on him and swearing he'll find out some day. Hips moving on auto-pilot, cock buried in Ryan's body again and again, slowly cresting those waves of pleasure.

With a whimper Ryan draws his knees up higher, cradling Sam between his thighs. The move angles Sam just right over his sweet spot and he shudders, rocking faster. "Sir," he gasps, clutching at Sam's ass, "please. Please, so close!"

"Go ahead," Sam nods, eyes locked on Ryan's face, body tensed, poised, waiting to follow. "Come for me."

It shouldn't be enough, that simple order. But Ryan arches, grinding down around Sam, and the rub of his prick between them sets him off. He rakes his nails over Sam's ass and bucks against him, his whole body straining in the instant before his vision blacks out and he comes.

Ryan's body clenching around him, Sam pulls back and thrusts forward a last time, driving deep and coming hard, spilling himself into the latex between them.

''Christ.'' Ryan stares blindly, still holding Sam tight. He shivers. /Fuck./ ''I need to go.'' His voice comes out as a bare whisper.

"What do you mean?" Sam frowns, not moving, their bodies still pressed tight together. "You just got here."

Long-buried memories are rising to the surface, and they're threatening to become too fucking much. ''I mean... Crap, get off me, all right?'' Ryan says, but has to make himself let go so Sam can move.

Sam pulls out and moves to the side. _What the fuck..._ "What's wrong? Are you okay?" It's obvious Ryan's not but Sam's damned if he can figure out what's going on.

"Yeah. I'm fine. I just..." Ryan rolls out of bed and doesn't even bother with the mess he's left on his belly, just starts dragging on his clothes. "I should leave. Sorry." _Fuck!_ His heart is beating so damn hard right now, and it doesn't have a fucking thing to do with afterglow. He can't even look at Sam.

"Look. If this has to do with what I said earlier, I was just rambling," Sam says, although he wasn't, not really. "Why don't you sit down and talk to me, or just... stay. If you're upset, driving's not a good idea."

It's Ryan's turn to be completely baffled. "What you...? What?" He frantically tries to think through every bit of discussion they've had this evening, searching for... he doesn't know what. Whatever it was, it certainly didn't bother him at the time. "I just... I'm getting too comfortable with you, all right?" he tries to explain, sitting down to pull his boots on. "I shouldn't."

 _Too comfortable..._ "Why?" Sam asks, stripping off the condom and tossing it in the bin beside the bed, his pajama bottoms pulled out from between the sheets. "What's wrong with getting comfortable with me?"

Ryan laughs, a brittle sound. "Because I passed 'comfortable', this is _too_ comfortable," he mutters, hopping lightly to his feet and looking around for his jacket. "It's shit from me you don't want." Because this is about Sam, right. It's a hell of an excuse.

"How the hell do you know what I want or don't want?" Sam asks, thoroughly confused. Where the fuck is all this coming from? "This is what? The third time we've seen each other and we didn't even really talk until the last time."

God, Ryan just feels like an idiot in the face of that logic. But he's definitely right about one thing: he's making way more of this than Sam is. "You're right," he says finally, flexing his fist around his car keys. "I'm being an asshole." It's petty as fuck, but he lets the door slam behind him.

Sam stares at the closed door, mouth open until he reminds himself to close it. Wonders if he should go after Ryan, but what would he say? He still doesn't know what the hell just happened. He thought they were getting along well, that they were having fun, that the whole fucking point _was_ getting comfortable with each other. Christ. He wishes he'd never fucking answered the phone in the first place tonight. He was doing fine, just reading his book. But he knows that's not true. Remembers the way he felt when he saw Ryan's name on the call display. The suggestions he'd made, whispered in Ryan's ear. He sighs, picks up his book and settles back into bed, a strange ache in his chest as he tries to focus on the words.

Ryan manages to keep his shit together until he gets home. But the second he slams the door to his apartment he backs up against it, sliding down to the floor. "Fuck," he breathes, not even bothering with the tear that leaks out. Sam probably thinks he's fucking insane. But he's not, he's not... he just wasn't about to sit down and _explain_ himself, Christ. It's better this way, he tells himself now. It would have been assuming a whole hell of a lot to think that Sam was really interested in his boring-ass reasons anyway.

And it doesn't matter what Sam thinks, not now. The bandage is pulled off and they're both back to their separate ways. And if Ryan is feeling like maybe he didn't get out soon enough... well, he'll deal with it.  



End file.
